Poem by Jueqing

 

In haste and hurry we gather up our tattered robes,
And pack up our traveling bags: not much to take.
Sleeves brushing white clouds, we retreat to the cave’s mouth,
Carrying the moon on our shoulders, we circle the sky’s edge.

 

Translated by Beata Grant
Daughters of Emptiness:
Poems of Chinese Buddhist Nuns